Love in the Age of Zombies

By Derek Clendening

Chip Morris, book worm extraordinaire, must come to grips with his crush on jock Junior Bentley who has tormented him for years. Worse, he must do so during the zombie apocalypse and while the entire world has gone mad. Their escape from chaos brings them together to lead a life they never thought possible.

In this coming of age, LGBT young adult novel, the strength of the meek overcomes the power of the strong, and the possibilities for the modern family are re-imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Derek Clendening
• Release date: Nov 22, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301003433

Book preview

Love in the Age of Zombies

By Derek Clendening

Published by Mausoleum Press at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Derek Clendening

For Tim Tilbe

Chapter 1

Chip Morris was thrilled that school was dismissed early, until he saw the carnage upon strolling out the building’s front door. Mr. Jaworski, Fort Erie Secondary School’s principal, had announced over the PA system that a state of emergency had been declared and that buses waited outside to take students home. Students that walked were urged to arrange for a ride home.

Jaworski sounded choked up and the sound of the microphone hitting the desk thudded through the speakers. Drama to heighten the seriousness of a situation, all done to make people panic, his Dad would have said. And he would have been right. The announcement made everyone charge at the door, delaying the evacuation.

What’s the big problem? Chip thought. September didn’t bring the blizzards that shut schools down mid-day, though that would have been no cause for alarm either. Blue skies brightened the day, which was all he had seen from Mr. Lewis’s third floor French class. The subject wasn’t as painful as math, but he’d longed to be curled up beneath a tree with his Kindle.

When he opened the front door, a wail of sirens sliced into him. Chopping sounds of helicopters overhead filled his ears and the blasts of gunfire froze him in place. His house was a street over and instinct told him to run home rather than dash back into the school for shelter. If he didn’t make it home now, he never would.

The sidewalk that was usually crowded with smokers was clear as he sprinted for home. He saw a parade of people racing down the next street, but from what he didn’t know. A car was turned over. Never before had home seemed so far away and he worried that his rubbery legs would give out on him before he reached his house. With home sweet home in sight, he pushed himself to his limit so he wouldn’t get tangled in the chaos.

Once inside, he slammed the door and plastered his backside against it. His lungs burned and he couldn’t regain his breath, so he took measures to slow everything down so he could breathe at a normal pace again.

Fort Erie was so sleepy. That was officially in the past tense, he understood. Reliable markers of the peaceful life he had known were now absent, especially the quiet. Before, the worst noise he’d heard on his street was the sound of a car with a muffle that’d seen better days. Now he heard his neighbors screaming and the sounds of glass breaking and tires squealing.

Bedlam. Absolute insanity.

Mom charged at him before he could register her presence. She snatched his wrist and began babbling at him.

Slow down, he choked. You’re not making any sense.

When she sucked in a deep breath, she made hand gestures as if she could flush the words out that way.

Lock the door behind you, she said. We haven’t got much time to hide, so do as I say and come with me.

Chip turned the lock. Mom still clutched his wrist and overpowered him. In the living room, the TV was tuned in to CNN, but he noticed nothing more as Mom dragged him to the floor. The blinds were all closed—Mom never allowed them to be closed during the daytime, especially not on such a bright and sunny day.

Just stay down on the floor like this, Mom said. You walk around, they’re liable to see your shadow on the other side and we’re doomed. We just have to wait for your father to get home. That’s right, he’ll come home. And, when he does, we’ll start boarding the place up.

Boarding the place—

"He’s going to come home. You get that, don’t you?" She squeezed his wrist so hard that it hurt.

Right. Right. When’s the last time you talked to him?

Two hours ago. Said he was coming home from work, but I think they closed the QEW. That means he’ll have to take the long way home, and if he can’t do that, he’s going to get stuck . . . .

He’ll be all right, Mom. He’ll make it home. Seriously.

Chip didn’t know what he was talking about. Never had he seen his mother so distraught, and while she could get overemotional sometimes, now he worried she would go off the deep end.

What the hell’s going on out there? Chip asked.

She pointed to the television. The screen was split, showing a microphone-holding man on the left and people fighting slow, decaying people on the right. A man fought what appeared to be walking dead man who could not be fazed with fists or blows from a baseball bat. He just kept coming.

He closed his eyes and opened them, but the image was constant. He’d seen such terror in movies, but he couldn’t believe it was happening in real life.

No wonder Mr. Jaworski was so choked up, he thought. The poor guy must have wanted to get the heck out of there so he could save himself.

Just turn it off, Chip said. I don’t want to look at it another second.

We’ve got to watch — otherwise we won’t know what’s going on.

It’s all happening right outside. What else is there to know?

"But that’s not everything, Chip, and you know it. If it weren’t for watching all this, I wouldn’t know that there’s a problem out of town. I wouldn’t know that there’s a problem worldwide."

So, it really isn’t just this area? It’s everywhere?

Deep down Chip knew the question was silly and he didn’t mean to ask it, but saying the words made it real for him. Nightmares were kept at bay by the refusal to dignify them with, but he knew this was worse than any dream. Life worked itself out when things went wrong. That was his experience, at least, and he hated to break precedent. Whatever the heck was going on out there was the one thing that could turn his world upside down.

How did all of this begin? Chip asked.

No one knows for sure. Not yet. Some sort of virus, they think, but they won’t find out in the middle of a crisis. She laughed manically. You think you’re prepared for everything and then something like this comes along and knocks you on your butt.

A knot started in his stomach and swelled by the second. Strong people survived adversity. He’d had to be strong his whole life for reasons he wasn’t prepared to tell Mom or Dad, but he wanted to assure her that they would survive so long as they gritted their teeth, kept their chins up and stuck together.

Mom stared at her watch. I hope he hasn’t run out of gas. If he does, there won’t be any place open for him to fuel up and then he’ll really be screwed.

Don’t do this to yourself. He took her hand. You know he never drives anywhere with less than a half-tank.

"Then why hasn’t he called? Tell me that?"

Sure, he could have told her that he didn’t want to drive and talk on the phone at the same time, but she could rebut with the fact that cell phone laws didn’t matter anymore. It seemed that he couldn’t speak comforting words to her without having them thrown back in his face.

Please don’t overreact, Mom. It’s not helping.

She reserved herself and it seemed like his admonishment had worked. For the first time, he felt like he was the parent and that he must hold everything together, so he prayed that Dad would soon return to retake the reins.

I’ve got candles, Mom said. I figure the power will go out soon, but there’s no telling when or if it’ll ever come back on.

It’ll be fine, Mom. Really.

Deep down, he didn’t believe that. He had succumbed to reality at her last comment. Power outages rarely struck town, and when they did, they were a real pain in the butt. Candles saw them through the inconvenience while families with money kept their generators running. Whenever that had happened, Chip had known that the power would return and that it was not a matter of if but when. If it happened now, there was no telling if they would ever get it back.

How much food have we got? Chip asked.

Went shopping two days ago. Got some milk and meat that’ll spoil if we lose power. We’ll have to use that up first. And then we’ve got some soup and crackers and peanut butter. Once that’s gone . . . .

We’ll have to leave the house to find food.

It wasn’t a question. Though Mom’s face was ashen, and she surely loathed the thought of leaving the house for any reason, he knew they must do it or face starvation. They would risk their lives for food, but as Chip saw it, they were stuck in a Catch-22.

Chip heard the door click open and he turned to see Dad standing in the doorframe. His expression was blank, like he didn’t know where he was and had no clue of what was going on. Maroon splotches stained his coat and dried blood crusted around a massive neck wound.

Honey, get in here! Mom shouted. Close the door and lock it. Do you want them to get in the house?

Dad’s confusion continued as his jaw slackened and drool hung from his lip. His eyes were vacant. Normally Chip didn’t think in those terms, but you could tell so much about who a person was and what they were thinking by their eyes. Now that his eyes were empty, it seemed that everything Dad had ever been had ceased to exist.

Steve, would you please close the door? Mom said. You’re playing with fire just standing there!

Dad didn’t listen. Perhaps he couldn’t register what she’d said, Chip thought. Trauma from everything he’d seen on the journey from his office to their front door might have killed his capacity to comprehend her directions.

Suddenly, his face soured and he marched through the kitchen, into the living room and grabbed a handful of Mom’s dress. She pulled back, causing him to tear away a patch of fabric.

Steve, what are you doing?!

Dad!

Chip, run upstairs and get your father’s gun.

He couldn’t just abandon her while she was in Dad’s grasp, but if he refused, he would kill her and Chip would be next. So, he sprinted upstairs and grabbed the gun from Dad’s sock drawer. Dad had wanted to keep the gun a secret, but Mom had insisted he know so they would impress upon him the seriousness of firearms.

He’d never actually seen it before—it had never been used. It was just a pistol, not the monster-sized shotgun that you were supposed to use to pick off the walking dead, but it was his only hope. Worse, though, was the fact that he didn’t know how to use the bloody thing.

Downstairs, Dad sank his teeth into Mom’s arm while she pounded his head with her free arm. The blows did nothing to stop him as she wailed in pain. Chip stood on the stairs, unsure of what to do.

Shoot him! Mom said. Forget how much it’s going to hurt you and shoot him!

Chip brought his hands together to aim, but he trembled too greatly to take a clear shot.

He’s not your father, he told himself. Dad’s gone and you don’t know where to, but that doesn’t matter because this monster is not your father. Not your father. Not your father!!

Tears streamed from his eyes and a lump grew in his throat. When he cocked the gun, the clicking noise cut through him like a dull knife. His tongue ran over his lips and his legs shuddered as he fired. The bullet blasted the wall. When he fired again, he struck Dad’s arm and sent him flying. A chunk was torn out of Mom’s arm, but he’d had no choice.

Dad stood up like no bullet could stop him. Chip fired once more and blasted him square between the eyes. He turned away, ready to lose his lunch, and unable to believe what he’d just done. It wasn’t over, though. Not as long as Mom was bleeding profusely.

He tried to reach her, one step at a time, but his legs gave out and he tumbled onto the floor. The landing took no toll on him as he sprang back to his feet and dashed into the kitchen for something to nurse her wound. In a drawer, he found a tea towel that would have to suffice.

Here, Mom, wrap this around your arm. He twined the towel around her arm for her and noticed the missing chunk of flesh that Dad had devoured. Gruesome sights had already become commonplace.

We’ve got to get his body out of here, she said. The smell is going to be way too much to handle before long.

But where do we take him? Do we bury him in the back yard?

I don’t know, Chip. I don’t know anything anymore.

Mom, look at how badly you’re bleeding. You’ll get a serious infection. We’ve got to get you to a hospital.

No! We can’t go out there and risk our lives! Besides, we don’t even know if the hospital’s open. It just isn’t worth it.

When she bled through the first towel, he grabbed several more and wrapped them around her arm. Though he’d taken a leadership role at home, he would concede to her about leaving the house. It seemed that no decision would be perfect and that they should ride things out.

Mom backed into